


Monochrome

by MirrorMystic



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Female Persona 5 Protagonist, Future Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-31
Updated: 2019-07-31
Packaged: 2020-07-28 02:30:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20056570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MirrorMystic/pseuds/MirrorMystic
Summary: With their son's first birthday right around the corner, Akira and Ryuji take a moment to reflect on everything- and everyone- that led up to this moment.





	Monochrome

**Author's Note:**

> Do you have a story to be told, but need some help with the telling? Send me an e-mail at nathaneraya@yahoo.com!

~*~  
  
“Hey, little man,” Futaba grins. “I hope you realize what a privilege it is, letting you sit on Totoro.”   
  
Beside her, an eleven-month-old is doing a remarkable job of recreating that one scene in My Neighbor Totoro where a child sits on Totoro’s belly. Only, in this case, the child is hugging a pink bunny pillow, and everyone’s favorite neighborhood nature spirit is just a giant plush chair.   
  
“You’re in the second-best seat in the house, you know that? Only thing better is my computer chair. No one sits in my computer chair but me.”   
  
He giggles, looking up at her with those big baby eyes. Futaba can’t help but smile. She leans forward, her elbows on her knees.   
  
“Hey. Hey buddy. Look, it’s your Auntie Taba. Can you say that? ‘Taba’.”   
  
He babbles in response.   
  
“C’mon, you can do it,” Futaba urges. “Taba. Taba. Say it.”   
  
“Baba!”   
  
Futaba coos, spinning around in her computer chair. When she meets Akira’s eyes in her doorway, she’s grinning from ear to ear.   
  
“Close enough,” Futaba beams.   
  
Futaba spins in her chair, swiping the figures off her desk.   
  
“Alright, little man, today you’re in for a treat,” Futaba says. “You get to meet… the Phoenix Rangers!!! Before we start, though, disclaimer: these aren’t toys, they’re collectibles, so let’s try not to get them too dirty, okay?”   
  
He blinks at her, oblivious, suckling on the ear of her bunny pillow.   
  
“Hey. Hey!” Futaba swats at him. “Get that out of your mouth!”   
  
Akira smiles, and slips away.   
  
After years of pestering her about how screen glare would ruin her eyesight, Futaba had finally grown out of just sitting in the dark with the only light coming from her computer screen. Her new desk lamp cast her room a cozy gold, changing the atmosphere completely. In that light, her room seemed colorful, warm, and alive.   
  
But as Akira stepped out and made her way into the living room, that warmth and color faded away into the cool grays of the early morning, just before the sun came up.   
  
Akira flops onto the couch and sinks into the fabric with a sigh. Already, she can feel the melancholy creeping in. It comes by every day, either early in the morning or the middle of the night. She lifts her head, and studies her reflection in Sojiro’s big screen TV-- dark curls, dark eyes, and ghosts behind her eyelids…   
_   
_ _ “Hey,” Ann mutters, in the middle of movie night. “You don’t look so good.” _ _   
_ _   
_ _ “Yeah,” Akira winces, a hand over her stomach. “I don’t _ ** _feel_ ** _ so good…” _ _   
_ _   
_ _ Later, when she’s doubled over on the floor of Ann’s bathroom, ‘I don’t feel so good’ winds up being a hellish understatement. _ _   
_ _   
_ _ She’s sweating and pale, wiping bile from her mouth. Ann’s beside her, pressing a makeshift hot compress against her stomach. It’s homemade-- just a clean sock filled with uncooked rice and popped in the microwave-- but it gets the job done. _ _   
_ _   
_ _ “Here,” Ann says gently, eyes dark with concern. “That should help with the cramps, and Shiho’s putting on some ginger tea for the nausea.” _ _   
_ _   
_ _ “Thanks, Ann,” Akira murmurs, pained. _ _   
_ _   
_ _ “Have you told him?” Ann asks. “Does he know?” _ _   
_ _   
_ _ “No. Not yet--” Akira claps a hand over her mouth, before turning and retching into the toilet. Ann reaches forward, her palm smoothing circles into Akira’s back. _ _   
_ _   
_ _ “Easy, girl,” Ann coos. “I’ve got you.” _   
  
The memory drifts away like rolling fog. A splash of color appears in Akira’s peripheral vision-- the comfortingly familiar flash of bleach-blonde hair.   
  
“Hey,” Ryuji says. He vaults over the back of the couch and flops on down. Akira fondly rolls her eyes, leaning forward just long enough for Ryuji to loop an arm around her shoulders.   
  
“You weren’t in bed,” Ryuji says. “Where’s--”   
  
“He’s okay,” Akira cuts in. “Futaba’s got him.”   
  
Ryuji chuckles. “She’s up early.”   
  
“That or she never went to bed,” Akira shrugs. “What are you up to?”   
  
“I dunno,” Ryuji says lightly. “I was thinking of taking a morning run, but now? I’m not so sure.”   
  
“Hey man, don’t let me stop you,” Akira drawls.   
  
Ryuji grins. Akira tugs him forward and steals a kiss.   
  
“So what are you up to?” Ryuji wonders.   
  
“Oh, you know. Thinking.” Akira murmurs, pensive. “He’s gonna be turning one in like two weeks. I can’t believe it’s already been a whole year.”   
  
“I couldn’t have done it without you,” Ryuji says gently.   
  
Akira laughs. “Please. We couldn’t have done it without _ them _ .”   
_   
_ _ When Akira had told Ryuji, it was a whirlwind of emotion. Stunned shock, crushing anxiety, cautious optimism, fear and excitement and everything in between. It was like Ryuji had taken months’ worth of emotion and somehow crammed it into a single evening. So when they decided to break the news to Sojiro together, they were expecting a similar hurricane. _ _   
_ _   
_ _ What they got were ten minutes of agonizing silence as Sojiro sipped his coffee and thoughtfully stroked his beard. _ _   
_ _   
_ _ Sojiro takes one last sip of his coffee before setting it down on the saucer and pushing it aside. The little clink of the porcelain clicking together is startlingly loud in the deafening quiet. He steeples his fingers, takes a deep breath, and lets it out slow. _ _   
_ _   
_ _ “...Do you two have a place to stay?” Sojiro says at last. _ _   
_ _   
_ _ Akira releases the breath she didn’t know she was holding. Ryuji blinks, perplexed. _ _   
_ _   
_ _ “W-Wait. That… That’s it?” Ryuji asks. “You’re not gonna, like… tear us new ones?” _ _   
_ _   
_ _ “You two are twenty-five years old,” Sojiro sighs, shaking his head. “You’re getting too old for scoldings. Besides, what do you want me to say? You want me to call you irresponsible? I’m sure you’re already kicking yourselves enough without me adding to the beating. You want me to ask if you’re serious about this? I already know you are. You want me to talk you out of it? I already know that’s not gonna happen when you two have already made up your minds. _ _   
_ _   
_ _ “I’ve known you for the better part of a decade,” Sojiro finishes. “So let’s skip the part where I lecture you and it takes me awhile to remember I’m supposed to be on your side.” _ _   
_ _   
_ _ Ryuji stares at the counter, working his jaw. Akira’s eyes are wet. _ _   
_ _   
_ _ “Thank you, Sojiro,” she mutters. _ _   
_ _   
_ _ “Don’t mention it,” Sojiro says. “Now let’s get back to my question. Do you have somewhere to stay?” _ _   
_ _   
_ _ Ryuji exhales. “We figured… maybe we could clear some space out at my mom’s apartment. We looked at a few places online, but they’re all… kinda… out of our budget.” _ _   
_ _   
_ _ Sojiro nods. “Would you consider moving in with me?” _ _   
_ _   
_ _ “Sojiro, we can’t ask that from you,” Akira insists. _ _   
_ _   
_ _ “Why not?” Sojiro asks. “Listen. I know you and your friends love hanging out above Leblanc, but that attic doesn’t even have a door, much less a proper bed that isn’t propped up on cinderblocks and milk crates. It doesn’t even have a proper bathroom. Now, I know you’ve insisted on your privacy these past couple years, and I haven’t pushed the issue. But things are different now. An attic is no place to raise a child.” _ _   
_ _   
_ _ “But that’s your space, and Futaba’s,” Akira argues. “We don’t… belong there.” _ _   
_ _   
_ _ “Yes, you do,” Sojiro says, adamant. “You’re family.” _   
_   
_ _ A month later, they’re taking Sojiro upon his offer. The former Phantom Thieves are helping move Akira’s stuff out of the attic at Leblanc down the block to Sojiro’s house. _ _   
_ _   
_ _ It’s amazing how much stuff Akira’s accumulated over the years, especially when, once upon a time, all she had in Tokyo could fit into a single shipping crate. Now, she had so much more, in more ways than one. _ _   
_ _   
_ _ Of course, moving even that much goes by quickly when you have eight sets of hands. With their job finished early, moving day becomes an excuse to pile into Sojiro’s living room, order pizza, and argue over what movie to put on. Sojiro lingers nearby, quietly appreciating how much warmth and life these kids bring to a once-quiet household. _ _   
_ _   
_ _ Akira pulls Yusuke aside, while everyone else is still flipping through DVDs. They wind up in the hall beside the two rooms that are being redone; the room that will become Akira and Ryuji’s, and the nursery next door. _ _   
_ _   
_ _ Yusuke smiles, making a picture frame with his fingers. _ _   
_ _   
_ _ “What do you think?” Akira asks. _ _   
_ _   
_ _ “I can’t say I’ve used the walls of a nursery as a canvas before,” Yusuke smiles. “But I can see it now. This will do quite nicely…” _   
  
Akira stirs, blinking the sleep from her eyes. She looks up from where she was leaning against Ryuji’s chest, Ryuji absentmindedly running his fingers through her hair.   
  
“...How long was I out?” Akira murmurs.   
  
“Not long,” Ryuji shrugs, eyes closed. “But if you want to catch some shut-eye, you should do it while you have the chance.”   
  
“Sorry,” Akira mumbles. “I guess I’m just… feeling nostalgic. Thinking about our friends. Thinking about this past year.”   
  
“Yeah…” Ryuji smiles, wistful. “They are pretty great. And this year’s been a rollercoaster, for sure…”   
_   
_ _ “Oh shit. Oh fuck. Oh shit. Oh fuck.” _ _   
_ _   
_ _ “I hope you’re not going to curse that much around the baby,” comes a stern voice. _ _   
_ _   
_ _ Ryuji looks up from where he’s wearing circles into the tile of the waiting room floor. He bolts across the room and wraps Makoto in a bear hug. _ _   
_ _   
_ _ “Oh my god! Mako, I could kiss you!” _ _   
_ _   
_ _ “Maybe later,” Makoto says dryly. _ _   
_ _   
_ _ “I’m so glad you’re here,” Ryuji babbles, anxiety in every word. “Akira’s upstairs. Mako, I’m _ ** _kinda_ ** _ freaking out--” _ _   
_ _   
_ _ “I can see that.” _ _   
_ _   
_ _ “I forgot our bag--” _ _   
_ _   
_ _ Ryuji grunts as Makoto shoves a duffel bag into his arms. _ _   
_ _   
_ _ “Don’t worry. I packed my own,” Makoto says. “You said Akira’s upstairs? Come on. Let’s see how she’s doing…” _ _   
_ _   
_ _ One memory blurs into another. Akira, Ryuji and Haru sit together at a booth in Leblanc. Ryuji’s staring, dumbfounded, his eyes flitting between Haru, smiling, her hands folded primly in her lap, and the signed check in Akira’s fingers. _ _   
_ _   
_ _ “Haru, we can’t take this,” Akira says. “It’s… it’s too much.” _ _   
_ _   
_ _ “My friends have no business struggling when I have more than enough to spare,” Haru says, adamant. “If you won’t take it as a gift, then consider it a loan. Pay me back when you can.” _ _   
_ _   
_ _ Ryuji smiles, rueful. “It might be a while before we can pay you back…” _ _   
_   
Ryuji takes a deep breath and sighs.   
  
“They’re a hell of a crew,” Ryuji murmurs, misty-eyed.   
  
“And now they’re in our lives forever,” Akira smiles. “Crazy, right?”   
  
“Yeah…” Ryuji mutters. His smile sours, and he turns away.   
  
“What’s up?” Akira asks.   
  
“Nothin’, just…” Ryuji grumbles. “...thinkin’ about Akechi.”   
  
Akira frowns, the sentimental mood turning bittersweet. “Are you still mad at him? It’s been years.”   
  
“Of course I’m still mad,” Ryuji mutters. “That was the closest I ever came to losing you.”   
  
“I know,” Akira says, bonking her head against his shoulder. “But I’m here now. And he had a part in all this too, you know? You don’t have to forgive him. But we shouldn’t forget him.”   
  
Ryuji nods. Slowly, his lips curl into a bemused smile. “Isn’t… Isn’t that from Pixar’s Coco?”   
  
Akira smiles, sheepish. “Sorry. Been watching a lot of kid’s movies.”   
  
They sit there together for a long moment, just enjoying each other’s company. In the distance, the sun begins peeking over the horizon, banishing the gray pre-dawn light into blossoming clouds of pink and gold.   
  
“Look who’s here!” Futaba announces, coming into the living room with Akira and Ryuji’s son on her shoulders. Akira carefully takes him from Futaba’s hands and lays him down on her stomach.   
  
“Hey, little man,” Ryuji coos. “You had fun with your Auntie Taba?”   
  
“He licked one of my Featherman figures,” Futaba drawled, “so he’s banned from my room until he can say he’s sorry.”   
  
“It might be a few months until he’s talking that well,” Akira chuckles.   
  
“Hey, buddy,” Ryuji coos, lifting up a finger for his son to take in a tiny hand. “Hey. Can you say your name? Can you do that for me, buddy?”   
  
He babbles, playful. Ryuji isn’t deterred.   
  
“C’mon, you can do it! Say your name for me!”   
  
“Gowo!”   
  
Akira and Ryuji exchange glances.   
  
“Okay,” Akira smiles, holding their son to her chest. “Close enough.”   
  
~*~


End file.
